I think I'm sick

I just don't know what to write about anymore.

My mind's just a cluttered mess of;

Law school pressure,

Insecurities,

Doubts,

Marshall bullshit,

More Marshall bullshit.

But I think the worst part is that, I don't have anyone.

I'm just a floating feather on a stock of stones;

Misplaced.

Misguided.

Unable to be what I want to be.

To be perceived exactly as I want to be.

Sometimes, I just wish I genuinely didn't care.

If I didn't get invited to parties.

Or not friends with the coolest people.

Or wow my professor on a perfect argument aka recitation.

Or get my hands on the latest trends.

Or be the star,

The center of attention

Usually, I don't.

I've expertise on not caring because it hurts.

But when it boils down on the same thing, on the same time, 

The gravity takes its toll.

And it weighs me down.

So heavy.

I think I'm sick.

Caught a disease of the mental.

And I've always believed my medication is my Mom.

I want to run to her.

Because when I'm with her I feel completely myself.

Unhidden.

That's why when we're together, I shine the brightest.

I stop seeking the attention.

Because to her, I'm the shiniest diamond.

And I want to be treated that.

But you don't get that in the real world.

In my world,

I have nobody here. 

I feel like having no friends because I feel restricted by the version of myself I created when I met them;

When I hang out with them.

And if I tell them this, I'd get mockery.

This isn't normal therefore it makes me abnormal.

To be this crazy.

To be sick.

At the end of the day, I could only face myself.

With a love hate relationship,

Because,

I know myself too well to know there is no other way to understand me.

And I'll forever be unexplained,

Uninterpreted.

Forever just a floating feather.

Forever will be alone.

Unblended.

Right now I am in my room.

A room I've decorated.

Loved.

Perfected to my liking (with limitations).

I have a comfortable mattress and fur is everywhere,

But it doesn't feel like home.

I am not too comfortable to call it my home.

I'm always worried M would walk in and say his usual bullshit again and again.

I'm always worried I didn't speak to him enough, or saw him enough.

I'm always just obliged to do stuff.

And when I do talk to him, it turns into a lecture,

Or a debate.

AND I AM SO TIRED.

TO TALK.

TO EXPLAIN.

TO MAKE PEOPLE UNDERSTAND.

TO PUT OUT MY APPROPRIATE SELF.

TO ANSWER QUESTIONS RIGHT.

For once,

Stop asking me about school,

Or my future,

And its privileges,

What tv shows to watch,

What books to read,
How my brows should be like,
Or not wear provoking shit,

How to pick out the best tiles,

Or be a perfect person.

Because that's what you want me to be,

Not even a perfect daughter.

JUST A PERFECT HUMAN BEING.

And how to be better.

Always to be better.

BETTER

Can we just stop.

Just for a bit.

Can we just be nothing?

I am so tired.

So.

Tired.

And I want to run away.

I'm not even worried of money.

Yes, I'll probably be begging for money to live.

Or live off of streets.

But that will seriously make me happier.

Quit law school?

I don't care anymore.

As long as I'm gone.

I'd run away.

When I worked at a bank,

I always knew I wasn't genuinely happy.

I really thought banking isn't for me.

Or an 8-5 job is.

So then I left.

Then the other day, a friend asked me,

"Are you happy?"

I was surprised because I still didn't get to answer.

And I thought, what is the problem here.

Answer: Because I'm still chained by the ropes of M

And when he tells me to pursue Corporate Law so I could work at the bank. I'm like, NOT AGAIN.

I'm seriously hoping he'd die before I graduate.

I realize now why I really wanted to take Law, and be a Lawyer. So I can FINALLY DEFEAT M. It's the only way he'd stop talking. 

Only way he'd stop belittling me.

Only way my insecurities really be gone.

Why haven't I run away yet?

Because my Mom will be really disappointed.

It will make her really sad.

I think this is why I don't fear death in a way.

When people stop you from going out because there's an imminent danger,

I don't give a fuck.

Not because I want to die.

But because honestly I don't mind.

Accident?

If I die,

Okay.

If I live,

Then I have an excuse to pause from life.

But maybe I'll be dysfunctional forever,

and that would be worse.